_Mer._ Y'are most honest, you shall find me no less, and so I leave
you, prosper your business my friends. [_Ex._ Mer.

_Unc._ Pray Heaven it may, Sir.

_Lance._ Nay if he will be mad, I'le be mad with him, and tell him
that I'le not spare him, his Father kept good Meat, good Drink, good
Fellows, good Hawks, good Hounds, and bid his Neighbours welcome; kept
him too, and supplied his prodigality, yet kept his state still; must
we turn Tenants now, after we have lived under the race of Gentry, and
maintained good Yeomantry, to some of the City, to a great shoulder of
Mutton and a Custard, and have our state turned into Cabbidge Gardens,
must it be so?

_Unc._ You must be milder to him.

_Lance._ That's as he makes his game.

_Unc._ Intreat him lovingly, and make him feel.

_Lance._ I'le pinch him to the bones else.

[_Valen._ _Within_.] And tell the Gentleman, I'le be with him
presently, say I want money too, I must not fail boy.

_Lance._ You'l want Cloaths, I hope.

_Enter_ Valentine.

_Val._ Bid the young Courtier repair to me anon, I'le read to him.